In The Time of the Ancient Deities
by JimHarbis
Summary: Just a little take of Fierce Deity/Majora past. Not completely accurate, but it *is* called fanfiction for a reason. Also has song insertions, if one has the OoT/MM,WW,TP soundtracks. FD's name changed from 'Oni' to 'Plocteson.'


{Song 1: Don't Want You No More}

In the time of the ancient deities, there was a great war. The war ravaged the once lush countryside of Hyrule, revealing how cruel and bloodthirsty its inhabitants could be. Many races fought in this war, and they all sought to take possession of an ancient relic called the Triforce, which was rumored to have been the source of power from which the Goddesses had created the world. The aggressive races of this great land were the Hylians, a seemingly normal folk, who had pointy-tipped ears and the Gerudos, a tan-skinned desert nation, whose inhabitants were all female thieves. Among the more peaceful groups were the Gorons, a mountain tribe whose members bodies were made of stone ,Kokiri, a forest race that never physically aged, and the Zora, a river-dwelling fish race.

The Hylians had been bestowed with the duty of guarding the Triforce by the three Goddesses, Din, Nayru, and Farore. It had remained that way for some time, and the Gerudo had been plotting the downfall of the Hylians for just as long. The first push from the Gerudo forces had been a risky one, but it was just enough to start an outbreak of Hylian attacks.

The Gorons had stopped their trade routes with the Hylians and the Gerudo, turning solely to the Zora for supplies. Some Hylians lived in a small village at the foot of the mountain. The village was call Kakariko, and the citizens built a large gate at the small path leading up the mountain, denying everyone access. They claimed it was to keep people from ascending the live volcano, but many found it being a way to get back at the Gorons to be more plausible.

Zoras living in Lake Hylia had been advised by King Zora not to partake in any Hywren affairs, and then had been banished from the lake by the Hywrens themselves and sent back upriver to the Zora Spring. Many a Zora had cried out against this bewildering decree, stating that they had business to attend to at the river. For hundreds of years, the Zoras had been protecting their temple, which laid at the bottom of the river, from raiders and looters. They had never meant to cause trouble or harm, but when a judgemental Hywren guard had slaughtered a stubborn Zora, they quietly left the lake and all ties with the Hywrens were dropped. Despite the Hywren king's apologies and pleas, the Zora would not associate with them any further.

The Kokiri holed themselves up into their forest alcove and constructed a magical barrier which was upheld by their minor god, the Great Deku Tree. He was a physical being; a giant tree rooted in the very back of the forest village. He did his best to keep his children, the Kokiri, out of the war. Though they were hundreds of years old, they still had the bodies of children, and were content with playing with each other in their forest haven.

Much of the Gerudo strife was caused by the fact that they lived in a desert across a sizable chasm, and thus were not considered an official race of the land by many people. Statistically and legislatively they were, but their contributions and input were usually looked at and tossed out the door, so to speak. Eventually, they had received enough racism and hate from the unjust Hywrens, and had struck the first of many blows to come.

{Song 2: Legend of Hyrule}

The deities looked down upon the impending chaos, the three Sister Goddesses of Jyrealn pondered over their next actions. Daila, Nayama, and Faruta fell into a squabble of their own with their brothers, Majora and Plocteson. Plocteson was a stalwart character with a sturdy build and a smooth sense of attire, consisting of a white tunic and a gleaming silver chestplate. Above his left breast was a solid triangle, and above his right a thin, crescent moon. He and his brother Majora were the two minor gods of N'Trea, and both sought to be the greater. This proved to be a challenge for Majora, as he was the antithesis of his brother. Majora was slightly taller and interestingly, he had a golden triangle on his left forearm and a crescent moon on his right, both somehow adhering to his rubber-like skin. He was far more demon-like in appearance, with long, dragging tendrils replacing his hands. Majora was one who thrived off of chaos and misery, and that stood as a barrier between him being the dominant god. Plocteson wasn't exactly innocent either, as he had a habit of demanding extraneous sacrifices and creative worship methods, to say the least. It was extreme enough that the N'Treans had given him the nickname of "Fierce Deity" and even Majora had fun mocking his brother.

At first, they played games with the lesser beings, pitting them against one another and bribing them to destroy eachother with gifts and boons. But, as time flowed, what used to be childish pastimes had flowered into daily hostility. Finally, the people of Chronopolis, a large city in the center of Termina, had decided they had had enough of the repulsive bantering and formed an alliance with the Four Giants, a near-extinct race of huge watchmen who agreed to guard the four corners of Termina, free of charge. It was a landslide as to which group of beings were held high. In fact, the first thing the Giants had done was isolate both Majora and Plocteson into masks, ultimately preventing the demigod brothers from harassing Terminians any longer. This was their first mistake.

{Song 3: Puppet Ganon (Puppet Mode)}

The spirit of Plocteson had awoken in a rather large bed with blankets and sheets so tattered, that they one could not distinguish them from spiderwebs. He had no knowledge of Majora's whereabouts. He sat up, rubbed at his eyes, and realized that the bedroom had no discernible walls and that he could only see fog. Swinging his arms back to gain momentum, he bounced of of the bed an onto his feet, his armour making a distinct **clank**. The noise echoed a few times, and suddenly he heard a distant moan. Pulling out his sword, He stood at the ready in case of anything with the intent to harm him. His sword was almost as tall as he was, and instead of one blade, it was made of two that interwove and met in an acute edge. He carefully made his way forward, and he barely saw the opaque hand lying on the ground. He stooped over to inspect what he had found, finding the rest of the body to be hidden in a dense thicket of fog. he pulled the body out, and saw that it was the leader of the North Terminian army, one who had been on Plocteson's side when he and Majora had waged war on eachother.

The deity spoke with curiosity rather than compassion. He wouldn't have spoken at all, had he not been the cause of the war general's death.

"Ungrateful mortal! What is this place, and how did I get here?" He demanded, holding the transparent man up by the shoulders.

The man began to make a sorry gasp as he realized who was holding him up.

"Spir... Spirit... L-Lobby..." he answered Plocteson, before reaching a ghastly hand towards the blade of the deity's sword, which was strapped to his back. Upon his hand reaching the intertwining blade, a magnificent light blazed from his eyes, nostrils, mouth, and ears. A crack began running from the center of his chest and expanded enough that it met with itself on his back. All the while, a piercing shriek had been building up, as would a tea kettle with boiling water. Whatever force holding the spectre together fell out, and he exploded in a dark purple fire. _The Fire of Cessation... _He thought to himself.

{Song 4: Hyrule Field (Orchestral Version)}

A young Plocteson wandered through the grassy cliffs of the Hallowed Field, the homeland of the gods, when he came across a rather large grasshopper. It came up to his waist, and he could see it's horrid mandibles brushing together a short stone blade he had cut by himself, the unearthly child charged forward at the insect, stabbing it through an eye. With a heave, he yanked the stone sword from the creature's face and it erupted into a a brilliant dark purple fire. Surprised by the action of the dead bug, he jumped back in surprise and found a tall, elderly looking man standing behind him.

"That which you see in front of you is called _The Fire of Cessation_. That means you have exposed the soul of a creature by killing it. If you reach your hand into the flames, you will absorb the soul and become stronger." Plocteson warily stretched his hand towards it, but his hand was hindered by the man's. "You aren't old enough for this power yet." The man pushed Plocteson's away and let the flames lick his own. He jerked his back straight, wavered, and collapsed, opting not to move once he hit the ground. The young god ran to find an adult, not realizing the old man had been an apparition created by some of the elders to sow seeds of curiosity and fear about the fire into the boy's mind.

{Song 5: Clock Tower}

The Fierce Deity shifted uneasily, reaching towards the fire he saw erupt from the dead man. Carefully, he slid his hand into the ominous inferno, cupping it around the flame. The flame became small enough for him to hold, and as he held it,it spoke to him.

_**Forgive me, master... I had to end the pain... your sword did quite the job.**_

"What? What is this pain that you speak of?" The demigod demanded of the small fire.

_**For such a demanding leader, you seem to lack essential knowledge. This place is the Spirit Lobby. You of all beings should know about this place. This is where **_souls _**go to await the advancement to either the Firmament or the Nether Realm. Souls that arrive here by homicide or brutal accidents are unfortunately left with an intense pain. That is how it was when you found me. I had been stabbed through the chest, but I hadn't died. I laid on the ground choking on my own blood. If we, as souls, die twice as I did by touching your sword, we are released from our bonds and are simply whisked out of existence. The fire that burns even now in your palm is the last essence of my being. I implore you, oh Fierce Deity... absorb my power and grow stronger so you may leave this place. I... entreat... ye...**_

The flame wavered violently as it was sucked into the trough of Plocteson's hand. As the last particle had been absorbed, he involuntarily shot his arms to his sides with his palms facing outward. He dropped to his knees and let forth a metallic scream as the light that had erupted from the general wooshed into him. Then, as quickly as it had happened, Plocteson felt a great force lift him back on his feet, and inhaled as if oxygen were being forced into his lungs. He felt a small pulsation over his heart, looked down, and saw that the triangle on his chestplate was slowly and dimly flashing.

Still seeing nothing but fog, he began to wander aimlessly through the vast area in searches of anything but fog. Finally, he felt something poke the bottom of his boot. He went to examine it, and found it to be a single, tan rock. He crushed it in his fist and let the powder fall back to the ground. He gazed at a nearby pile, disheartened until he realized that he was standing on the beginning of a gravel trail. As if to indicate to him that he had arrived in a region different from the one he had awoken in, soothing music began to play.

{Song 6: Ordon Village}

What surprised Plocteson the most was not the are he had found himself in, but the grassy hill with a sole tree that was in the center of everything. In the distance, he saw a fountain with many souls we gathered around it. He recognised some as Terminians, and others as Hylians from his sisters' dominion. to each side of the fountain, there were rows of waiting houses for the spirits where healthy ones could help soothe the injured ones, and they were each three stories high. Past all of that, the grassy hill and tree stood, and that is where Plocteson headed first. While he trekked there, he was surprised at how peaceful all of the souls were. Various army's dead were mingling with eachother, and it was productive... needless to say, it blew the deity's mind. He had climbed the hill relatively easy, and now saw a lone figure sitting beneath the tree, huddled like a crying child. He stepped quietly, as not to disturb the being, and found it was a little boy wearing a strange mask. He had purple hair, and wore what seemed to be a tick nightgown. A mask that looked exactly like his brother's chest. He let his equipment clank with his every step as he strode in front of the boy. The boy, in turn, lifted his mask-hidden face to analyze the white-clad figure before him. Plocteson saw that the boy had indeed been crying, and knelt in front of him. One may have mistaken it for compassion. In reality, the god was processing what he saw. Before he could draw a conclusion, the boy spoke.

[Song 7: Calling the Four Giants]

"Plocteson? I'm not alone!" The boy sprang up, hugging the deity at waist height. No mortal, not even a young child, would be foolish enough to treat Plocteson as an equal. As Plocteson raised his hand to smack the boy away, he had another idea, forgetting about the informalities.

"Majora?" He asked, annoyed.

"Yes! Isn't it great? Now we can wallow in pity together!"

"What happened to you? Why are you a little kid?" Plocteson said, wrenching a hand free and clamping it to his forehead.

"I suppose it's a side effect of the whole mask imprisonment curse... you do know that's why we're here, right"

Plocteson was shocked. "Wha-what?"

"Of course, silly! You're a god! You can't die!"

"There's no way out? I mean, you're right; we're gods, for gods' sake! I'm pretty sure there's some faultiness in the Giants' magic..."

"Oh, of course. I already know some incantations to return us to our normal bodies..."

"Then what in the Nether Realm are you waiting for?" Plocteson griped, pulling his own silky white hair.

Majora was taken slightly aback. "Are you serious? Do you not see what has been put forth to us? Look at the people. Look at who they were, and look at how they are. They have found the secret to peaceful co-existence... and the influences you and I thrust upon them were not helpful in the slightest. Now I understand how much trouble I alone have caused. It makes me sick to imagine myself how I was. I have no desire to leave this land. As long as I don't use the incantations on myself, I can never leave. Nothing of my previous life matters now. I can start over. WE can start over. You wouldn't want to spend it here as family?"

Plocteson was taken even more aback than his brother.

"No. I'm sorry. I'm happy for you, and I'll let you finish your new journey, but I can't stand it here. It's too strange seeing all the people I've led to death." He placed his hands on Majora's shoulders.

"Well, I can send you back to the land of the living. I'm going to need some source of energy, though... it's quite the spell. I hate to do this to them, but I need souls. Find the ones who are pained, who are suffering... find the ones I have sadistically killed. Bring them back to me to channel their power." Majora said, holding back a sob. The Fierce Deity set off on his own new journey.

[Song 8: Link Leaves Ordon]

In the time of the ancient deities, there was a great war. The war led to the salvation of a ruthless demigod. In the time of the ancient deities, there was much intricacy and bloodshed. They, in turn, led to the redemption of a ruthless demigod. In the present, many of the intricacies have been absorbed by time. Plocteson pondered these things as he sat, perched in the same lone tree he had met his brother under thousands of years before. _Foolish... _he thought to himself. Majora had been playing Plocteson all along. As soon as he had gathered the souls, Majora had used the spell on himself, and Plocteson had been left in the Spirit Lobby. It turned out not to be such a bad place after all; nobody was hostile. Plocteson jumped from the tree and laid against it. Over the thousands of years, a small river had begun to flow past the tree. solemnly, he closed his eyes and recited the words of an older acquaintance.

"_The flow of time is always cruel. Its speed seems different for each person, but no one can change it." _He took a deep breath._ "A thing that does not change with time is a memory of younger days. It is something that grows over time: a true friendship. A feeling in the heart that becomes even stronger through time. The passion of friendship will soon blossom into a righteous power. Through it, one knows which way to go." _He thought of his brother._ "Time passes, people move. Like a river's flow, it never ends. A childish mind will turn to noble ambition; Young love will become deep affection." _He gazed at his image in the stream. He had not aged at all. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his smooth, white hair and smiled._ "The clear water's surface reflects growth."_

~Fin~


End file.
